You're Gonna Hear Me Roar
by LeggoMyMeggo92
Summary: Marlowe Lannister is the twin sister of Lancel, and has never quite fit in at court. Will a marriage pact with the eldest Stark help her find her place in the Game of Thrones? Robb/OC, Rated M for later content and language.
1. Chapter 1

I hadn't slept at all the previous night. My room was too stuffy; the thick King's Landing summer air had come in and refused to leave. I was down to my small clothes and a sheet by the time my maid came to wake me. She pushed back the curtains on the window and let in the sunlight, only to find me awake with a book propped upon my lap and a candle burning low.

"Good morning Montira." I said dismissively, engrossed in my tome of Myrish history.

"My lady, did you sleep at _all _last night?" She asked through a sigh with her hands on her hips. I dismissed her concern with a grunt and a wave of my hand. Montira would have none of that, so she slammed my book closed and helped me out of my bed, despite my protestations.

She was helping me into a white and pink gown with cap sleeves and beautifully embroidered flowers about the bust when my brother knocked upon the door. I bid him enter and had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. He was dressed in Lannister red, as usual. He owned many different, beautifully colored tunics but he always insisted on wearing red. He didn't want to be disloyal.

"Good morning Lancel," I said in my most bored voice, picking at a loose string on my bodice. Unlike my cousins Cersei and Jaime, who were also twins, I held my brother in a rather negative regard. I loved him, he was my brother after all, but he was a simpering sycophant bending to the whim of whoever was in power. Just like our father. His employ as the King's cupbearer and squire didn't help. The King constantly berated him, calling him simple and making japes about his virginity. I luckily escaped being my cousin's handmaiden, as I once accidentally set her hair on fire. She had to cut it down to her shoulders and had hated me even more ever since. I had also spilled things on her dresses, couldn't sew to save my life, and had sneezed on her food more than once. I was left to my own devices after a month.

"Father and Uncle Tywin's vanguard is half a day's ride from the city. They should arrive mid-afternoon." He said tersely, sitting at my table across the room and helping himself to a piece of fried bread. We usually broke our fast together, to keep up the appearance that we enjoyed each other's company. This was King's Landing, appearances were everything.

His news excited me. I went and sat with him, choosing bacon and a scoop of eggs. We hadn't seen our father since we were eleven, when he sent us to live at court. Today was the eve of our seventeenth nameday, and he was coming to celebrate with us. Since our odious cousin Joffrey's nameday was at the end of the week, our uncle was coming as well to celebrate and attend the grand tourney and ball the King had insisted upon.

It wasn't my nameday or my father's visit that excited me, it was the tourney and the grand parties that went along with it. I enjoyed the joust well enough, but it was the swordplay competition that I loved. The big, strong men throwing hunks of metal at lithe, young partners excited me in more ways than one. At seventeen and still unwed, I knew my father would soon pair me with a valiant young knight we saw at the tourney this week. Perhaps Loras Tyrell, the knight of flowers. He was handsome and incredibly talented with both lance and sword.

"I do hope father will make you a marriage pact soon." Lancel commented between bites of his third piece of fried bread. We had always had a certain connection as twins, much like our famous cousins.

"And why is that, dear brother?" I asked with a certain amount of venom in my voice. Montira busied herself with tidying my chambers with the help of her little daughter, Tonette.

"A husband will tame your wild ways. Make you more ladylike." His comment irked me.

"Need I remind you that I've been at court just as long as you have? We even had the same septa as children." I took a dainty sip of coffee and dabbed at my mouth with my napkin.

"Yes, but you've always been rebellious. You lock yourself in the library for days on end, you insist on practicing your mummer's tumbling…the lords and ladies of court are not kind." He said, the last part barely above a whisper. I rolled my eyes and slumped down in my chair while spreading my legs, sitting like a common man would. "That's exactly what I mean, Marlowe. You act spitefully every time I bring this up."

"Then stop bringing it up." I sat properly again and waved my hand at him, "You may go now, Lancel."

He pursed his lips and nodded, reminding me that I should be at the gate when Father arrived. I watched him go, and then rolled my head to the side, looking at Montira and Tonette. They were still stripping my large bed.

"Montira, am I not ladylike enough?" I asked casually.

"Of course you are, my lady. You're a beautiful, mannered, learned lady. Any man would be lucky to call himself your husband." She had heard this question many times before, and the response sprang to her lips almost instantly now.

I sighed and moved to my vanity and let Tonette brush my hair while her mother finished stripping my bed and did away with my dishes. The girl was no older than six, with pitch-black hair and eerily dark eyes. Her face was almost a perfect circle with her little features evenly spaced about it. She would grow into a beauty, I was sure of it. She kept her eyes on my hair as she brushed it and didn't speak until her mother came back and dismissed her to her lessons with the septa.

I had Montira keep my hair simple, with a long blonde triple braid running down my back. I thought the hair in the capitol was a little silly-looking and overly ornate.

I struggled to remember what my uncle looked like. It wasn't really his arrival I was looking forward to; it was my cousin Tyrion's. He and I had been the closest of cousins since I was five years old. He was fourteen, but still only about an inch taller than myself. He was my size, so I persisted until we became close friends. When I was seven he taught me how to tumble, and I continued with it most every day since. We kept in touch with ravens, communicating at least every fortnight.

In addition to my dress, I added a necklace my father had sent me from Casterly Rock on my previous nameday. It was a gold chain with a gold lion's head pendant, with emeralds where the eyes should be and an amber mane. I had worn it once before, on the day I'd received it. I wasn't much a fan of jewelry; I was much fonder of books.

When Montira finished my hair I picked up my book and told her to bring my lunch to the library around midday, and to fetch me when my father entered the city. I spent the afternoon in the library in my favorite place, an overstuffed armchair covered with soft bear's fur. I slung my legs over one arm and rested my back against the other and dove headfirst back into Maester Effret's _History of Myr. _The Maester had written some of my favorite tomes about the Free Cities. I devoured his _Pentoshi Origins _and _Braavos in An Historical Perspective. _He described each city with such rich detail that I could smell the spices in the air and feel the hard red brick beneath my feet. I heard the calls from the market, tasted their delicacies, and marveled at their buildings without having to step foot outside the Red Keep, however much I wanted to. It was my escape.

My deepest wish was for my father to fund a tour of the Free Cities for me, maybe even as far as Qarth. I wanted to go before I was to be married, but I knew that would never happen. My father wouldn't think it proper for me to go by myself. I had once asked my cousin Jaime if he would escort me. That earned me a hearty laugh and a pat on the head from my king slaying cousin. "The realm couldn't spare its greatest fighter for that long." He joked as he ruffled my hair.

I had just reached the chapter on the accidental discovery of glassmaking when Montira entered with my lunch. Some soft-boiled eggs and the breast of honeyed chicken with carrots and peas.

"What news of my father's arrival?" I asked, taking a sip of sweet red wine she had snuck up for me.

"Only about an hour now. They are riding fast at Lord Tywin's request." She reported.

I rolled my eyes, "Of course they are. My father can't wait to see what an embarrassment I've become."

"Your father is eager to see you. It has been five years since he's seen his oldest children." Montira was much more forgiving of my father's gutlessness than I was, always rationalizing it away.

"Yes, I'm sure that's it." Sarcasm filled my voice as I pushed my plate away, downing the rest of the wine.

"Careful, my lady, we don't want that going to your head too quickly." She said, taking the goblet away from me. I smiled and thought of my father's face if I greeted him after five years slobbering drunk. He would marry me to the nearest lordling just to be rid of me.

"Thank you, Montira. I will be heading out to the yard until my father arrives." I stood from my chair and moved to put Maester Effret's book back on the shelf. I would finish it another time.

"Going to watch the knights?" she teased. I stuck my tongue out at her as we left the library together.

It was a cloudy day, but the sky still shone blue through the thick, puffy clouds. I watched my cousin Jaime slap around a young squire before he went to bathe before his father arrived. He smiled my way and nodded, and I nodded back.

I continued watching while the squires practiced their swordplay, parrying and lunging and thrusting their swords at each other, hoping one day to be as good as my cousin. I watched until I heard a commotion coming from the general direction of the main gate, and then gathered up my skirts and ran for the gate.

I arrived, out of breath and flushed, just as the portcullis was being lifted. I took my place next to my brother and tried to slow my heartbeat. I couldn't tell anymore if it was the excitement or the run that made me breathe as heavily as I was. I could feel my Queen cousin's disapproving look without even seeing it.

My Uncle Tywin was first, riding a beautiful stallion draped in red, escorted by my cousin Jaime in his valiant white armor. I felt sympathetic towards the horses, draped in red felt on this hot day. My father followed, always his brother's second-in-command. I couldn't help but smile when he disembarked from his mare and walked straight at my brother and I. He took us in his arms, one in each, as he had when we were small. I could see the tears brimming his eyes as he held us at arm's length and took each of us in.

"Lancel…you're so tall." He said, looking to me. "And Marlowe. You've grown into a beauty to rival your cousin."

I smiled as I saw the Queen bristle at my father's comment, "I do hope you mean my cousin Jaime. If Her Grace heard you say that your head would soon don a spike."

"And sharp-witted, too. We shall have no trouble making you a match, shall we?" He kissed my forehead before turning his full attention to Lancel. "Lancel, you must tell me all about your progress as the King's squire."

My Uncle came up behind him before my brother could answer, "Kevan, we have matters to discuss. Come."

Our father gave us each a kiss before following his brother off in the direction of the Tower of the Hand. What business they had with Jon Arryn, I had no clue. I didn't have time to ponder what before I felt a tug at my skirt. I turned around and smiled at the sight of my cousin Tyrion standing with his arms outstretched.

"My dearest Marlowe! You grace me with the vision that is your smile!" he exclaimed.

"I fought it as hard as I could, dear cousin, but alas I could not conquer it." I giggled and tried to stifle my grin. I bent down and hugged my favorite cousin.

"Well isn't this a sight? She's two-thirds your age and thrice as tall." A female voice chortled from behind us. I stood and faced my queen cousin, who had once been the most beautiful woman in Westeros, some said the entire world. Age had begun to rob her of this beauty, so she often lashed out on me and other maidens at court. Jealousy, thy name be Cersei Lannister.

"Thrice? The girl is no giant. Now you, on the other hand, sweet sister…" He trailed off as Cersei gave him a venomous look before striding after her father.

I immediately took Tyrion up to the library for some quiet. We each sat in a chair with a book, reading quietly until Montira entered and said that my father wanted to see me. She led me to the chamber of the Small Council, which confused me. Neither my father nor my uncle sat on the council, why should they call me here?

We entered and saw my father, uncle, Lord Varys, Lord Renly, the King (who looked incredibly bored), and the Queen sitting at the far end of the table.

"Come here, Marlowe. Sit down." My uncle said forcefully.

"Where is Lord Arryn?" I asked out of plain curiosity, taking a seat between the King's brother and Lord Varys.

"He has taken ill, which is why I've been forced to sit here and talk tedium with your blasted family." The King fumed. I could see Cersei tense.

"This is a matter of great import, dear husband. And it involves your friends. You should be glad we included you." I had once seen a mummer's show where one performer walked along a tense rope twenty feet above our heads. The rope looked so tight that it could snap at any second. Cersei's voice sounded tighter.

"Just get on with it, then!" King Robert half-near roared.

"Yes, Your Grace. Marlowe, you turn seventeen on the morrow, correct?" My uncle asked and I nodded before he continued, "It is high time you were married. And since we have been seeking to win the loyalty of House Stark as more than just Robert's long-ago bannermen, we have decided to propose a marriage pact between you and their eldest boy, Robb. The ravens have already been sent to Winterfell."

I was speechless and my eyes were wide. I could feel all their eyes on me, expecting me to respond. It was a few moments before I could think of something.

"Well…if the ravens are already gone, I have no say in the matter. Thank you for letting me know." I rose and my father put his hand on mine.

"My dear, the North is not so bad. It is a wonderful match, you should feel lucky." He looked up at me with his washed-out pale green eyes and I pulled my hand away.

"If the boy looks anything like his father, count yourself lucky. Ned was the best-looking of damn near all of us. And don't get me started on Catelyn Tully!" The King chortled from his chair.

"Why not Myrcella? Surely a distinguished house like the Starks would prefer to have a princess than the Queen's cousin? Why not pledge Joffrey to one of their daughters?" I asked, trying my best to hide the panic in my voice.

"Myrcella is too young to be sent away. And since she may someday rule the Seven Kingdoms, she must remain here to learn how. You, on the other hand, are expendable." My cousin snapped at me, turning up her chin and looking smug.

"Lord Stark has made it clear that his daughters will not leave Winterfell before they've flowered. At least, not without their father." Lord Varys explained in his sickly sweet tone as placed a hand on my arm. I pulled it away and bowed quickly.

"Thank you, Lord Varys. Please excuse me." I left quickly and heard my cousin's tone of disapproval from outside the door, but I didn't hear her exact words.

I waited until I was in my bedroom with the door locked to burst into tears. The North! They might as well ship me to Slaver's Bay and sell me to the highest bidder. Maybe I would get to see the Wall, and I'd read about the fort of Winterfell and the overall beauty of the North, but I'd also read about the cold. How it could so easily kill and maim. I was born during the last winter, and could not remember it so well.

Montira knocked and I let her in. She carried my dress for the evening's feast in her arms, a long crimson frock with a large Lannister lion embroidered on the back in gold. She helped me into it and laced up the back, offering some cool water to help calm my red, swollen face. I accepted. While she went to get it, I undid my long braid and shook out my hair. A knock came at my door and I answered. It was Tyrion, looking rather solemn.

"I have heard about your betrothal." He said as I let him in.

"The North, Tyrion! What could be worse than that?" I asked, slumping into my vanity chair.

"There are many worse places I can think of. Here, for example." He said only half-joking.

"And why is that?"

"The Starks have been weathering winter since the First Men. They do it better than anyone. And with my sweet sister and King Robert at the helm, I imagine the stores of King's Landing will run short rather quickly. Both are awfully fond of overindulgence."

"Yes, I know." I murmured. He waddled over to me and took my hand, looking me in the eye.

"There are worse things than marriage. And besides, I've heard the lad is quite comely." He patted my knee and for the first time that afternoon I felt comforted.

I nodded, "I've heard so too. Our children shall be beautiful, if they don't turn into icicles first." I smiled and so did he as he kissed my hand.

"That's the spirit! Now come, let us get intolerably drunk and give our fathers something else to hate us for!"

"But cousin, have you had your afternoon whore? You simply can't function without one!" I teased him and he smiled, going along with my jape.

"I have decided to postpone my afternoon whore. I will take two evening whores instead. See you at the feast, sweet Marlowe!" He said, cartwheeling out the door and away down the hall.

I stayed in my room another few minutes for Montira to return and fix my hair. As I left my room, I splashed some water on my face and sighed. It was bracingly cold, and I wondered if the cold was all I had to look forward to.

"Winter is coming."

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><p><strong>Author's note!<strong>

**Hey all! This is my first Game of Thrones story and I'm excited to share it with you! Please review! I'd hate to be that person, but I'd like at least five reviews before I put a new chapter up!**

**Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

I sat next to my brother at the feast, barely touching my food. However, I had the cupbearer fill and refill my wine cup more times than I cared to remember. The sweet, sour taste spread across my tongue and I tried to forget about my impending trip North. It would take at least a month, and be very costly. My uncle must've desperately wanted to secure the alliance of the Starks.

I gulped the rest of my wine and wiped my mouth, motioning to the young girl to refill it once again. She was stopped by my father's hand covering the mouth of the cup.

"You've had enough, Marlowe." He commanded gently, as he always had. My father was not a man to scold; he would merely demean and make you feel horrible with his tone of disappointment.

I sighed loudly and sat back in my chair, crossing my arms across my chest. "I was merely trying to match the King cup for cup." I explained dismissively. I could feel my face start to flush, as it always did when I drank.

"That would be most unwise. You would kill yourself." My brother said, trying to laugh off the uncomfortable conversation. I shot him a pointed look and he quieted.

I tore chunks of bread off of the loaf in front of me and dipped them in olive oil before popping them into my mouth. I watched as a mummer's troupe acted out a scene of the joust in which the actor playing the King tumbled drunkenly from the stands and ended up being poked from both sides by the jousters, which launched him high in the air. The crowd held its breath until another actor dressed as the Kingslayer caught the mummer as he tumbled from the sky. He made some witty comment about how the realm was safe in his hands and the crowd laughed.

I excused myself and felt the wine ooze through the veins in my legs. I swayed dangerously but caught myself, not realizing how drunk I'd gotten. I made it out of the great hall and stopped just outside, propping myself up on the wall just beyond the guards. Luckily the humidity had broken earlier in the day, and the night air was pleasant and crisp. I took in several deep breaths and closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning. The world felt slower, hazier.

I had only been this drunk once before, when my cousin Tyrion and I attended a mummer's show in one of the markets and took a sip from a flask of black tar rum every time they made a reference to King Robert's weight, drunkenness, whoring, or ineptitude. My poor dwarf cousin nearly had to carry me back to the Red Keep.

This time he came with assistance. I opened my eyes after an unknown amount of time and found myself almost eye-to-eye with Tyrion. The handsome Lord Renly stood behind him, but I had to look up to see his face. I had slid down and was sitting with my back against the wall.

Tyrion raised his eyebrow at me and I started giggling hysterically. He sighed, annoyed at my antics, and asked Renly to help me up.

Renly scooped me up and carried me toward my room, as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He was wearing a velvet doublet, probably green but I couldn't tell in the dark. I rested my head against his shoulder and smelled him. He smelled clean and fresh, like pine and expensive vetiver oil from Pentos.

"I know where her chambers are, Imp, I can escort her myself." He insisted. His voice reverberated in his chest like the purr of a jaguar. I kept my eyes closed.

My cousin sighed, "Fine. But if the Stark boy goes to claim his right and finds there's nothing there, my father will have your head on a spike." Tyrion was only half-joking, if that. I smiled against Renly's chest. Renly scoffed and we started moving. Minutes passed like hours and Renly was gently setting on my feet in front of my door. I opened my eyes and thankfully the world was stable.

In the torchlight, Renly looked positively regal. His beard bordered his lips like a frame did a painting, and his black hair shone like ebony. I took a step closer and reached up and felt his hair. It was soft as a puppy.

"Why did you cut off your hair, Renly? It looked so good when it was all long and wild." I asked, running my fingers along his scalp.

"It was also a lot more maintenance." He said, grasping my wrist and untwining my fingers from his locks.

"You mean Ser Loras likes it better this way." I teased. The rumor was that Renly and Loras were secret lovers. No one believed it, of course, both men were some of the most eligible bachelors in the realm.

But from the way Renly flushed I could tell the rumor was at least partially true. He grabbed my wrists tighter and pushed me back against the wall. "Loras is my squire. That is why we spend so much time alone together! How dare you suggest otherwise?" His voice was angry, and the hint of panic confirmed it.

We stood looking at each other for a moment before I lurched forward and planted a kiss on his lips. They were warmer than I expected, but still inviting. He kissed me back for a mere second before shoving away from me roughly.

"What was that for?" I demanded.

"You are drunk. And betrothed. And I- we should not." He said tersely before turning down the hall and practically sprinting away. I watched him go before stumbling into my room and onto my bed. To the seven hells with this dress, I was too drunk to get out of it.

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><p>Morning came too soon, as it always did. Montira ripped back the curtain and the sunlight of the King's Landing morning slapped me square in the face. I cried out and flung an arm over my eyes. Montira dragged my blankets off of me and gave them a loud snap as she shook them out. I groaned and turned over onto my stomach.<p>

That was a mistake. A moment later I dashed out of bed and hung my head over my chamber pot, retching out nothing but bile that burned on its way out. I finished, gagging a few more times before I could sit back against the cool marble wall. Montira was there with a cup of cool water, which I gratefully drank.

"Thank you for getting in the chamber pot this time." Montira said snarkily. I ordered sausage, bacon, and potato hash for my breakfast and told her to be quick about it before waving her away.

Whatever gods there were felt that I needed punishing. My head pounded at every footstep in the hall, my stomach still churned and I feared the water would come back up. Luckily it didn't. I always felt better after a greasy breakfast. A knock came at my door and I felt my pulse in my eardrums, but bid the person enter.

It was Tyrion, who saw me sitting next to the chamber pot and slammed the door. "How are you this morning, good cousin?" he asked loudly, as if he feared I was going deaf.

"Shhh, Tyrion." I replied.

"I saw what happened last night." He gripped my shoulders tightly and looked me directly in the eye, "Do you know what my father will do to you if you break your match with the Starks?"

"A kiss hardly breaks a match. It will be fine." I got up clumsily and walked to my vanity, where Montira had mercifully left a bowl of cool water. I wetted a cloth and held it against the back of my neck. "And if you didn't notice, he rather rudely shoved me away."

"If Renly asks for your hand, the King will give it to him."

I chuckled, turning to my dwarf cousin. "Do you not know of Renly's perversion?"

"I've heard the rumors. Why?"

"He all but confirmed it last night. The way he defended himself and pushed me away."

"Maybe he didn't want to kiss you?"

"Really, cousin, who wouldn't want to kiss me?" I asked, using my mirror to clear the sleep crust from my eyes. "And what would your father do to me if this little arrangement with the Starks fell through?" I turned back to him again, genuinely curious.

"You would spend your days among the Silent Sisters if it was because of your actions. If the Starks refuse you, they will propose a match between Joffrey and Stark's oldest girl. The marriage would wait until the girl has flowered, but my father wants something more immediate. He wants the match before Robert whores himself into the seven hells. You would be married to the first lord who asks." Tyrion produced a flask from his boot and poured something into two cups on my table, offering me one. "Hair of the dog?"

I took it and smiled, "Hair of the direwolf, you mean." He laughed and we drank.

My departure for Winterfell was delayed by the sudden death of Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. Instead of just sending me north, the whole royal court was to ride with me because Robert meant to ask Lord Stark to be his new Hand.

"Lord Stark hasn't even said yes to the match yet!" I pointed out to my father as we supped together in his solar. My brother was present as well, meekly sipping his Arbor gold. We had been arguing for the entire meal, and this was the next-to-last course. I was on my feet in front of my chair, desperate.

"We cannot just leave you here while the King travels north. How would it look if we arrived at Winterfell and didn't have the thing we promised? It is better to assume he will consent than not." My father cut his venison steak into impossibly small pieces while explaining patiently.

"Am I just a _thing_ to you Father? A thing to be bought and sold as a common slave? Last I checked, this wasn't Astapor!" I flung my empty cup across the room and it clanged against the wall.

"Will you quit acting like a child?" My brother sighed quietly.

"Shut up, Lancel!" I shouted, banging on the table.

"He's quite right, Marlowe. You are acting like a child, now sit down and eat your food or I shall send you to bed without supper." My father's voice sounded exasperated. A little more pushing on my part and he would snap and not make me go North. I plopped down sullenly in my chair and played with my food, pushing it around my plate. After a few more moments of silence I stood suddenly.

"If you make me go, Father, I swear I will eat everything I can get my hands on and be fatter than the King when we arrive at Winterfell." I could see his anger flare under his cool exterior, so I kept going, "I will also refuse to bathe, so I will stink like pig, and I will chew rocks so my teeth break and-!"

My father reached out and slapped me across the cheek. I fell back into my chair from the force of it. He picked up his fork again and resumed eating calmly.

"You will behave yourself or I will see you carried up to the North in a cage." His voice was quiet but full of rage and power. I clutched my cheek as my eyes welled with tears. Who was this man, and where had my father gone?

"You cannot cage a lion. Not even one such as me." I spat my words at him and stood so quickly my chair fell backward, clanging on the floor. I stormed out of the room and back to mine own chambers. I slammed shut the door and let out a scream of frustration.

I rummaged under my bed and found the box that held my tumbling clothes. Soft cloth breeches and a linen tunic with a simple leather belt to keep it in place. I opened my shutters and slipped out onto the ledge. I was right under the steeped roof, so I pulled myself up onto the cool tile roof. I made my way to the peak quickly and took a deep breath of cool night air.

The view was quite beautiful, but I wasn't here for the view. I prepared myself before flipping up into a handstand, the soles of my feet greeting the night sky. I bent my arms at the elbows, almost losing my balance once or twice, before slowly lifting myself up again. Then, I shifted my center of balance ever so slightly and began to walk along the roof apex with my hands. I walked halfway to the other side before I put my feet down, the resulting position making my body look like a bridge. I pushed off with my arms and stood upright again.

I took two steps and vaulted end over end to the tower at the other end of the roof, ending in a somersault down the steep roof that almost cost me my life. Luckily, I stopped in time. It was a good fifty feet to the stone terrace below. I peeked over the edge, just to make sure. Yes, the fall would kill me. I gathered my legs against my chest and hugged them there, resting my chin on top as I gazed out over the city.

In truth, I had never wanted to be married. Ever. I knew it was expected, especially of the women of my station and name, but I had never wanted it. I wanted to be free and travel this large, vast world and take in all its wonders. Who would want a bunch of brats running around her ankles while her husband either lost interest in her and took mistresses or lost interest in her and took to drink. Or both. In Cersei's case, it was both.

And not like the marriage of Jon Arryn and Lysa Tully had fared much better. Many failed pregnancies, then they're stuck with a sickly weakling not worthy of his father's name. The Tully woman had sunk all her energy into the child; she probably hadn't even noticed her husband was dead.

The King's brother Stannis and his wife also struggled with lost pregnancies that drove the wife insane. Their poor little girl wasn't allowed to see others. Ever. That Baratheon marriage was an unhappy one as well. Rumor had it that Stannis hadn't visited his wife's bed since they conceived their little girl, which would explain why he was always so sullen.

I didn't have a single happy marriage around me. Maybe that's why I dreaded it so much. That, and I would be miles away from everyone and everything I knew. My life was in King's Landing, how dare my father ask me to give it all up? How dare he slap me to get his point across? In the wild, a lioness would kill any lion that treated her this way. The lionesses were the powerful ones.

But this was not the wild. I would have to go to the North and marry Robb Stark. I would be Lady of Winterfell someday and when winter came, I would freeze my southron ass off. It was my duty.

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><p>I had no need to wonder if the Starks would take me, for the next morning as I was packing my father entered my room unannounced and handed me a piece of parchment. On it was written,<p>

'Ser Kevan,

I accept the offer of your daughter and will discuss the matter of dowry and make the pact official upon your arrival in Winterfell. The King assures me that she is as beautiful as her regal cousin, Cersei, and that my son Robb will become very fond of her.

Safe journeys,

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North'

It was sealed with a grey wax direwolf. My fate was sealed. I handed it back to my father, who declared that we were leaving two days hence. I nodded silently and asked Montira to help me start packing.

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><p><strong>Authors Note: Thanks for reading! Please review!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

The trip north was the longest month of my life. My Uncle Tywin departed our company along the Gold Road back to Casterly Rock. Instead of wishing me well in my marriage he simply said, "Do not disappoint us."

The worst part of the journey was that most of the ride I was confined to a litter instead of being allowed to ride on horseback. The litter was hot and most of the time opening the shades offered little in the way of relief. At the Inn of the Crossroads my cousin Tyrion brought me three new books to pass the time. They were fairy tales of The Reach, The Vale, and The North. I spent most of my time reading, which caused my neck to cramp and my back to ache. My dwarf cousin would from time to time ride with me when his legs caused him too much pain to continue riding. This offered some respite.

I grew more and more sullen with every passing mile, but enjoyed the landscapes of Westeros. I figured this was as close to traveling the world as I would ever get, so I tried to remain positive. However, unpleasant thoughts kept creeping into my head. My appetite withdrew until my father threatened to force-feed me. He withheld alcohol and kept me under close guard. My sworn shield, besides nearly the entire vanguard, was my mother's cousin Humfrey Swyft. He rode a mouse-colored mare next to my litter and would occasionally poke his head in to ask if I wanted water and to complain about his aching legs. He was a passable knight, but seemed more interested in the destination than the journey.

The night before we were to finally finish our journey, my stomach was in knots and my cousin was in my tent with her tailor, putting the finishing touches on my dress for the morrow. I would ride with the Queen and her children in their litter and be presented to the Starks. My father wanted me dressed in Lannister crimson, but the Queen insisted I dress in the colors of House Baratheon, as that is whom the Starks were allying themselves with.

"Or at least that's what we want them to think." She smiled and pinched my cheek roughly as her tailor finished the long trumpet sleeves. The dress was made of sumptuous cloth-of-gold with black stag patterns embroidered onto it. The bodice was tight with an off-the-shoulder neckline that was low enough to be tempting but high enough to protect my modesty.

After the dress was deemed worthy, the Queen set her servants about my hair. It was brushed roughly, the ends trimmed, and then washed and treated with Myrish lily oil to give it shine and a pleasant odor. She had her servants try out different hairstyles on me, ranging from simple braids and complex updos, finally settling on a simple triple-braided look after my scalp was red and raw. I started to object to being treated like Cersei's personal doll but was silenced by a slice of orange being shoved into my mouth.

"Enjoy that, it very well may be your last." The Queen said as she had her servants use the tip of a knife to scrape the gunk from under my fingernails before shaping them into perfect ovals. Then my skin was scrubbed with a sea salt mixture to make me glow. I needed to be radiant for tomorrow. If everything went well, I was to be married within the fortnight.

Mercifully, my cousin left after dunking me in a bath, telling me not to get my hair wet. I promised not to and she was gone. I sighed and leaned back in the tub, making sure none of my golden locks touched the water.

I shut my eyes and tried to relax my nerves by telling myself that Robb would be kind and honorable, like his father. And comely. It was a shallow thing to hope for, but I hoped nonetheless. Doing my wifely duty would be much easier if he had a handsome face. I hoped that he bathed regularly. I wished that he could make me laugh. I yearned to watch him beat his foes with a sword in the training yard. A mighty warrior, a kind ruler, and a gentle lover.

I didn't hold the Seven (they seemed useless to me, as did most gods), so I took a chance and prayed to the Old Gods of the North. I asked for a happy marriage, nothing else. Just a happy marriage. I knew I was supposed to give him little brats who would someday hold the castle, but I could survive if I weren't able to give him children. He may take a mistress then and leave me to my own devices. Winterfell was well off. Maybe once he got sick of me I could travel. Go to White Harbor and then find a ship across the Narrow Sea, never to be seen or heard from again.

That was all I wanted, to disappear into the writhing crowds of Volantis or Braavos or Pentos and travel anonymously throughout the continent to the east. Maybe even as far as Asshai.

Not this.

Never this.

But this was my reality. I could dream all I wanted but I would have to awake sometime. And when I awoke it would all still be there, waiting for me. I resigned myself to my fate. I was to be Lady of Winterfell.

"Come, My Lady, we don't want you turning into a prune!" Montira said, holding up a blanket for me. I rose out of the bath and practically dove into the towel. At least I would still have Montira and her little daughter. Montira's husband was a stable hand in King's Landing, but he had come with us. He would be granted a position in the stables of Winterfell, my father made sure of it. He knew how fond I was of my handmaiden.

I grabbed Montira's hand as she patted me down and held it tight. "I am glad I still have you." I whispered. She tried to hide her smile, but I saw it flash across her face.

"I know, My Lady. Now, into bed. And no reading tonight! We can't risk any dark circles derailing your marriage!"

* * *

><p>My cousin's litter was worse than my own because it included the bickering of her two youngest children, Myrcella and Tommen. My cousin ignored it and decided to lecture me on the ways to be a good wife.<p>

"Ignore your husband's indiscretions, especially in public. You must provide him with children, or your marriage will be for naught. Don't harbor any delusions of love, marriage is to make heirs, not to make love…" On and on she droned. I tuned her out and watched the northern landscape pass us by, nodding along to what she was saying as if I was listening.

But was it really so foolish to wish for love? As a young woman it was the thing most of us desired above all else. Had I not once hoped for a dashing knight to pluck me from my misery? Hadn't Robert gone to war because of his love for Lyanna Stark? Love existed, I guess, but the way my cousin made it sound, not within the confines of marriage.

I gasped as the walls of Winterfell rose up against the horizon. The castle was huge, larger than the Red Keep. Its wide circular towers seemed to punch holes into the sky itself. I gaped in awe.

"Stop that. You look like a fish." My cousin said in a snarky tone, setting about preparing herself and her children for our arrival. Then she turned her attention to me. I heard the gate of the first wall being lifted as she turned my face left, then right roughly. She pondered for a second, then started undoing my braid and letting my hair fall loose about my shoulders. She pinched my cheeks hard to give them some color.

"There. You look a proper maiden now." She exhaled as I heard the litter come to a halt. A minute later the door opened and Jaime explained that the litter was too large to fit through the gates, so we would arrive on horseback with the King. I was given a beautiful dapple palfrey to ride through the gates. As the second gate started to lift, I started trembling. He was standing just inside. I couldn't see him until we rounded the corner and passed under it.

The sky was overcast, giving everything a grayish tint. Assembled in front of the crowd were the Starks. Lord Eddard stood center, his wife Catelyn stood to his left with their youngest son whose name I had forgotten. To his right, though, was my betrothed.

"And this is my cousin Marlowe." Cersei introduced and I bowed my head politely. I discreetly took in my betrothed as I disembarked as gracefully as I could. He had more of his mother in him, with auburn hair that had been styled for the occasion and dark blue eyes.

"My Lady Marlowe this is Robb, my eldest. You two shall be married." Explained Lady Catelyn, as Lord Eddard had been spirited away by the King.

"I am pleased to meet you, my lord." I said as I smiled at him, curtsying properly. He was quite handsome, so at least that wish had been granted. His hair looked a little silly, probably done at his mother's insistence so as not to look like a ruffian.

He smiled back, "And I you, my lady."

"Well now that pleasantries are over, might we be shown to our rooms? We are all quite weary from travel." Cersei interrupted.

"Actually, cousin, I was rather hoping to take a tour of the castle before settling in." I insisted.

"I will escort her, if it please Your Grace." Robb piped up from behind me.

"As long as her sworn shield accompanies you, I don't see why not. If Her Grace approves, of course." Lady Catelyn agreed. My cousin shot me a look that was pure venom as she called Ser Humfrey, but gave her consent. I took Robb by the arm and we walked away from the crowd, who had started to disperse.

Ser Humfrey trailed behind us at a distance, well out of earshot. I leaned close to Robb and whispered, "Can I be so bold as to tell you a secret?"

"Of course you can. We will be husband and wife soon, and we shall have no secrets from one another."

"I'm incredibly relieved to find that you are quite handsome." A smile broke across his face and he looked at the ground, trying to hide it.

"Well…I am glad that you are quite beautiful."

"All my cousin's doing. She's had me plucked, shaved, scrubbed, and washed. Once we are married you will see me for the beast that I am." I joked, growling for effect. I tried to keep the mood as light as possible so I didn't slip into panic.

He laughed aloud, "I'm sure it cannot be as bad as that."

"Oh, but it is. I'm a right proper animal, or so my cousin never ceases to tell me." I smiled back. He looked at me curiously for a moment and then continued with, "Would you like to see something?"

I nodded cautiously and he boldly took my hand, leading me towards what looked like the great hall, a long, tall stone building. We entered another grey stone building and traversed the stairs up to the third floor before heading to the end of a long hallway. He stopped outside a door and bid me wait outside for a second. I agreed and he disappeared behind the door, returning a second later. What he held in his arms made me gasp and take a step back.

"Don't worry, he's harmless." He was holding a direwolf pup, cradling _him_ like a babe. The pup was standing with his front paws on his master's arm, which forced me to look up at him. He was sniffing at me curiously and Robb took a step closer. I backed up.

"My mother insisted we keep them in our rooms, at least until everyone was settled in." Robb explained, watching the pup watch me. I stared, gaping at the young wolf in my future husband's arms. Finally I had the courage to speak.

"We?"

"Yes, my half-brother found them in the woods about a month ago. There was one for each of the Stark children, so father said we could keep them." Robb was practically beaming at the memory.

"C-can I…will he…?" I asked, words once again becoming difficult to form. I was shocked. There weren't supposed to be direwolves south of the Wall, not for perhaps a thousand years. They were the stuff of myth, legend, and now here was one in the arms of my betrothed. As he told it, there were five more somewhere in the castle.

"Go ahead. He should get to know you. Grey Wind," he said to the pup, which immediately turned his head toward Robb's voice, taking his eyes off me for the first time, "This is Marlowe."

I stretched out my hand warily, moving slowly so as not to startle him. He sniffed at my hand and tilted his head, looking at me. In that moment my heart melted. This was no more than any other pup I had ever wanted to take back to the Red Keep. I had even kept one for a while as a pet until my cousin Jaime found it. He told Cersei and she had Ser Meryn Trant skewer the pup in front of me as she told me, "You are a Lannister. Lions eat dogs. You'd best remember that."

I felt my hand touch the puppy soft fur between Grey Wind's ears and he tilted his head up to lick my wrist. I smiled and looked at Robb.

"He likes you." Robb announced proudly.

"And what of his master?" I flirted. I was being terribly forward, but saw no harm in it. We were to be married, a little flirting couldn't hurt.

Robb lowered his eyes to the back of the pup's neck as I stroked the direwolf's ears. "He thinks you quite agreeable."

I took a step closer to Robb and tried to look him in the eye. He met my gaze and I felt a strange tingling feeling spread down into my fingers and arms. I moved my face closer to his, and he moved his closer to mine.

"Oh, gods be good! There you are My Lady!" Montira's voice rang through the hallway as she practically sprinted toward us. "Your chambers are ready- Seven save us, is that a direwolf?!" She said, grabbing my arm but then pausing to stare at Grey Wind.

"It is," Robb turned toward his door and bent down to let Grey Wind back into his room, shutting the door behind the pup. "You are my betrothed's lady's maid, I assume?" he said to Montira pleasantly after rising.

"I am, My Lord." Montira curtsied. "My Lady's father sent me to find her. Your Lord father and Ser Kevan will be meeting before the feast tonight. They would like you both in attendance." There was a sense of urgency in her voice that made me nervous.

"Where shall we meet them?" I asked.

"Lord Stark's solar in an hour. Come, My Lady, I must make you presentable." Montira took my arm and ushered me away.

* * *

><p>Montira brushed out my hair, letting it hang loose about my shoulders and I changed into a simple light green gown with birds across the shoulders. It brought out the green of my eyes, Montira claimed.<p>

We walked up the circular staircase to Lord Stark's solar, just a few buildings over. Ser Humfrey announced me and showed me in. The men were all there, Robb and my father sitting on one side of the desk and Lord Stark standing near the window. Upon my entrance, Robb stood and offered me his seat, taking a position next to the fireplace. I could cut the tension in the air with a dirk.

"Who has died?" I inquired, breaking the uncomfortable silence. My father shot me a disdainful look while Lord Stark answered.

"The King has offered the hand of his son, Joffrey, to my daughter Sansa in order to thank me for agreeing to become Hand of the King." I felt as if I'd had the wind kicked out of me. My head felt light and dizzy.

"Does this mean our pact is broken?" I asked.

"Lord Stark would like to…renegotiate." My father stated.

"A marriage with the prince would directly unite houses Stark and Baratheon. However, the marriage to the Queen's cousin would unite us with the Lannisters. Something, which has never been attempted before." Lord Stark said politically, trying not to offend my father.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about. Just marry the both of us off to members of the royal family. The bonds between all our families will be all the stronger." Robb interjected. I silently thanked him. I didn't want to have come all the way from King's Landing just to entertain a mild flirtation.

"Going through with the marriage already planned would provide you with all the strength of Casterly Rock, should you need to call your banners in the future." My father, ever the strategist. He was probably reading from a page of my uncle's journal.

"And a marriage to the future king would provide me with the strength of the Realm." Lord Stark countered, turning to face my father.

"Joffrey is a fickle boy. Tempestuous, even. He may lose interest in your daughter before they wed. Then you would be left with nothing. The double marriage will insure you against that," My father sat in his seat stiffly, elbows on the table, gesticulating with controlled purpose. When this argument failed to issue a rebuttal, he continued with, "My Lord, we both want what's best for our daughters. Mine will never make a good lady's maid to her cousin; she's useless in King's Landing. The North will help tame her. Yours is a proper young lady, if what I hear is true. It would be an awful waste to keep her in the North. If we keep to our plans, your daughter will be queen someday, and mine will be Lady of Winterfell. Each in their proper place."

I stared at my father, eyebrows ruffled in puzzlement. Never had I heard him so eloquently speak with anyone. And, for once, I didn't hear my uncle's words or see his hand in any of it. I was agog, aghast.

My father's eyes remained fixed on Lord Stark, who was deep in thought. His dislike of house Lannister was known, but it was difficult to argue with the facts. Sansa would flourish in King's Landing, and Lord Stark would soon be departing. I, according to my cousin and father, needed to be tamed and marriage in the North was the way to do it.

"I suppose that is true. The wedding will go on as planned." Lord Stark announced, not meeting anyone in the room in the eyes. A weight was lifted off my shoulders and I took in a breath. I looked at Robb and he appeared to be elated, trying to hide his smile with his hand. He was darling.

"Now about the dowry…" My father said, retrieving a scroll from the inside of his cloak.

"Your original offer was more than generous." Stark said dismissively, sitting next to my father at the desk. I heard papers ruffling and for the first time I noticed a small grey Maester in the corner. He passed Lord Stark a skin and told him where to sign and seal, then my father did the same.

"Twenty-thousand golden dragons, twenty-four oxen, fifteen hunting dogs, forty bolts of cloth, and twelve barrels each of Arbor gold and sweet red Dornish wine." My father declared, holding up the scroll after the wax had pretty much set. My stomach turned suddenly. That was what I was worth, at least to my father.

"They shall be married five days hence." Lord Stark said suddenly.

"Five days, then, My Lord." My father beamed.

"Now that everything is settled, might I go back to my quarters? I am weary." I asked and Lord Stark nodded. I met Montira in the hall and we started back to my room. Robb insisted in escorting me, with Montira attending us closely.

We walked down the stairs arm in arm before he said, "That was close."

"A little too close for comfort." I replied. I could feel him flexing his bicep and tried to hide my smile. We reached my chamber in no time and Robb kissed my hand, looking me straight in the eye.

"Until tonight then, fair maiden." He flirted.

"Until then." I said, slipping into my room and shutting the door. I leaned against it and took a few deep, long breaths. Could I be falling in love with my betrothed?

Perish the thought.

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><p><strong>Authors Note!<strong>

**Thanks for reading! I will once again need five more reviews before the next chapter gets posted! **


	4. Chapter 4

The great hall of Winterfell was bright and alive that night with the sounds of mirth. I was seated between my father and my betrothed, with Ser Humfrey standing guard behind me. Looking around I casually noticed that Tyrion was not present. This was not strange; he was often too drunk to remember to show up. I sat making pleasant conversation with Robb while my father spoke to Lancel in hushed tones, most likely chiding him for the King's behavior. As if my brother, a seventeen year old weakling of a squire could hope to control the wanton ways of King Robert.

"What is your opinion of Winterfell so far?" Robb asked, stabbing a piece of bloody meat with his fork before popping it into his mouth. Unlike most men in the hall, Robb used his knife only to cut his meat, not to usher it into his mouth.

"I've only seen a small part of it, but what I've seen I adore. I love that it looks ancient. It gives me a sad, historic feeling. And I love feeling of such. Sad is merely happy for deeper individuals, after all." I smiled and he looked at me, surprised, like he was only expecting a cursory, polite answer out of me. This boy had much to learn before we were wed.

"Perhaps we should take a longer tour on the morrow." He suggested.

"Perhaps we shall." I cast him a sideways glance before eating a few bites of my venison steak. It was prepared perfectly with a red center and just some black pepper for spice.

The band was setting up at the far end of the hall, or at least I thought they were. I had to squint to see them. Montira blamed my poor long-distance eyesight on my nights up reading. I did not care, as long as I could still read I was happy. I finished my food and put my utensils down, resting my hands on my lap like a proper lady while I looked around at nothing in particular. I started when I felt Robb's hand on top of mine.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked, looking at me from behind his eyebrows. His hair was askew in its naturally curly state and made him look the part of a rugged Northern knight. I smiled brightly and consented, not bothering to ask my father. We were betrothed; I was almost no longer my father's child. Ser Humfrey grabbed my arm an asked where I thought I was going, but I brushed him off and told him to stay where he was. I would be fine.

Robb escorted me to the area that had been cleared for dancing and we took a position next to Cersei and Jamie, who were both shining in gold and crimson. The music started and my golden, perfect cousins ceased to exist. It was only Robb and I, twirling about the dance floor. He was a graceful partner, something I did not expect. The dance was a Northern one I had learned in my early days of attending court. I had forgotten some of the steps, but Robb led me forcefully but gently and elegantly disguised any mistakes on my part (and there were many).

The thing that caught me most was that he held my gaze the entire dance. Even if I looked away for a moment, when I looked back Robb's eyes were on me. His dark blue eyes that were full of nobility and mischief at the same time. I wanted to kiss that smirk off his lovely face. I wanted to drag him away from the party and rip his tunic off and kiss his chest and see for myself if what they said about Northern men was true. Then the dance suddenly ended with a flourish from the musicians and we clapped as I snapped back to reality.

The room felt hot, steamy, stifling. I excused myself and rushed outside, desperately needing to find Tyrion. He would know what to do. The night was brisk and I could see the steam of my breath on the air. I came upon Tyrion and a young man with dark hair and dark eyes. Tyrion sounded as if he was lecturing the poor boy. In what, I had no clue. Drinking? Whoring?

He turned to me as I approached, stopping mid-sentence. "Dear cousin, what brings you out in the cold?"

"I apologize, do I interrupt?" I said, looking at the young man. He had the long Stark face and the Stark eyes, nearly the spitting image of Lord Stark himself. At about my age, I assumed this was my future good-brother, Jon Snow.

"No, dearest, I was just educating young Jon here on the ways of the world." Tyrion took my hand and bid farewell to Jon, leading me away.

"It was very rude to not introduce us, Tyrion." I chided. I had wanted to meet this mysterious bastard of Winterfell since my arrival. No doubt Lady Catelyn told him to make himself scarce.

"The boy needed a moment to ponder what I told him. Too much knowledge too fast would cause him nothing but pain. Now what is it, sweetling?" We sat upon two barrels outside the stables. I could hear the nickering and soft neighs from inside.

"I think I may be falling in love with my betrothed." I confessed, staring at my hands. Saying it out loud made me feel foolish.

Tyrion gasped in mock horror, putting his hands to his face, "Oh no! Not that! Anything but that!"

I playfully punched his arm, "Stop that, I'm serious."

He took my hand in his small ones and looked me in the eyes, "Then here's to your happy marriage. Let it be better than that of my sister. Or any other noblewoman I know." He kissed my hand and released it.

"Yes, but how do I know if he loves me back?" I asked, looking up at the stars. I had never seen so many before and was momentarily hypnotized.

"You've got great breasts and a beautiful face." Tyrion replied facetiously. I glared at him and he relented. "Your body will entice him for now. Once he figures out that you've got a sharp wit and a fair mind, he will love you all the more."

I gave it a moment of silence, pondering this. "Are you sure?"

"My dear, if I were not a dwarf and your blood cousin I would have married you long ago." He kissed my hand again and excused himself, citing a call of nature. I sat on my barrel a while longer, then headed back to where I found him.

The young man was still there, hacking away at a training dummy with a tourney sword. His form was exquisite but a bit sloppy, but I suspected that was because the master at arms was not there to critique him. He angrily swatted at the dummy's head, arm, neck, before burying it in its side and leaving the sword sticking out.

I clapped lazily, announcing my presence. He whirled around and took the knee. I looked at him curiously and asked, "The fuck are you doing?"

He looked up at me and rose, "Bowing to the future Lady of Winterfell."

"Why? Do you bend the knee for your brother?" I crossed my arms in front of me to ward off the chill. I could feel the shivers wanting to escape my lips, but I wouldn't let them. I needed to become accustomed to the cold, I told myself. The cold was my future.

"No…but you're the queen's cousin so I thought…" He was puzzled. He looked like a little lost puppy and I couldn't help but pity him.

"You're Jon Snow, then?" He nodded.

"You're Marlowe Lannister." His was not a question.

"I am. Why are you not in at the feast?" I took a few steps closer to him and he spun and wrenched the sword out of the dummy, toppling it.

"I wish people would stop asking me that." He murmured, looking at the ground between us as if trying to bore a hole in it with his black, brooding eyes.

"Lady Catelyn didn't want you there?" I asked, taking a few more steps closer. We were perhaps ten feet from each other. He replaced the sword on the rack and faced me again.

"No. She did not." He walked past me so close I could feel the slight breeze that was his wake.

"Thought it would offend the royal family?"

He stopped in his tracks and spun around. I was stroking his last nerve, I could tell. Before he could retort, I continued.

"Well, as a member of the royal family and future Lady of Winterfell, I officially invite you to the feast." I closed the distance between us once again and took his arm. "I am hopelessly lost, you see, and need an escort back to the great hall. If he should disappear into the crowd to become just one more drunken sot, who will notice? Not my Queen cousin, I assure you, she's got bigger things to worry about. Namely her husband." I tried to take a step, but he slid his arm out from mine and backed away.

"I-I'm sorry. I can't." He stammered before sprinting in the other direction, leaving me alone. I stood, stunned.

"Well that was rude." I said to no one in particular.

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><p>Somehow I made it back to my room, and immediately ordered a hot bath. It had been a long, trying day. Montira rushed off to get my bathwater after undoing the laces of my gown, then my skirts. I let them drop to the floor in a heap and stepped out of my skirts, feeling the warmth of the flames in my fireplace brush against my skin. I took a deep breath, stretching to loosen the muscles of my back, which were quite tight. Then I inverted myself in front of the fire, closing my eyes and holding myself there for a few minutes.<p>

When I opened my eyes I caught a glimpse of something on my table in the far corner. I dropped to the floor, turning my dismount into a tumble before I pulled on a silk robe the color of fresh snow.

I walked to my table and saw the pile of books. Five of them, all at least a hundred years old. I opened the cover of the top one and saw a sealed note, sealed with gray wax and a direwolf.

'I heard you are fond of reading. Enjoy these, but not too late. Our tour starts after breakfast tomorrow. – Robb'

Then I saw the title of the book I touched. Maester Effret's _Touring the North_. Upon further inspection, Maester Effret wrote all five of the tomes before me. I couldn't help but let a smile creep onto my lips.

"How does he know?" I asked the empty room around me. I looked at the note again, but no answer was found there. Perhaps he had Tyrion helping him, giving him clues as to how to woo me. I was able to read a few pages before Montira led in the kitchen girls with the warm water for my bath.

I slid into the silky water, which was scented like wildflowers, and dunked my head under, enjoying the brief silence and letting my mind wander. In five days I would be marrying Robb Stark. A handsome, noble, kind, considerate young man.

I panicked. In no less than five days, I would be ushered into a life I had never wanted. Marriage and the children that followed had never been cause for excitement. In fact, the thought of holding a baby to nurse at my breast made me physically ill, much less the process of carrying and birthing one. I had no maternal instinct. I had no desire to share my bed with anyone but my books.

In my panic, I accidentally inhaled some water and came up coughing. Montira immediately attended me with towels and Tonette brought me a cup of wine, which I happily drank. My hands were shaking so badly that Montira pulled me out of the bath and placed me by the fire while ordering Tonette to go fetch me a plate of bread and cheese, as well as some more wine.

I stared into the fire while Montira combed the snarls out of my hair, not saying a word. My legs were pulled up to my chest and my chin rested atop my knees. I often sat this way while upset.

"Anything on your mind, my lady?" she asked innocently.

I took in a long breath and let it out slowly. "I've made a huge mistake."

"How's that, love?"

"I don't want to be married." I whispered, watching the flames continue to dance.

"It's a little too late for that, my dear." Montira said matter-of-factly. I loved her for that most of the time.

"I've been prancing around Winterfell with Robb since I arrived. Everyone probably thinks us in love." I sighed.

"And this is why you do not wish to marry him?" I picked up the hint of sarcasm in her voice as she finished combing my hair.

"I've been so opposed to the very idea of marriage for so long. To change my opinions in less than a day makes me seem foolish," I said, turning to face her. She looked at me wryly, but didn't say anything so I continued, "Are my convictions so meaningless to me that I should change them upon seeing that my betrothed is…_incredibly_ handsome? That thought upsets me more than my impending marriage."

"My lady, if I may speak freely?" She asked and I nodded, as if she needed permission. "Love can change even the Crone's old heart. It is a powerful force, love is, and my lady would do to remember that. Do you love him?"

"I thought I might, but-"

"There is no but. And remember that you weren't exactly brought here of your own free will. Why resign yourself to misery because your father brought you here unwillingly? Why not try to enjoy your life?"

I sighed again and sat back in my chair, gathering my hair over one shoulder and twirling it around one finger. She was right; life was too short to be bitter about my marriage when I was, if I was truly honest with myself (which I hated being), rather looking forward to having Robb Stark in a husbandly way. Maybe his seed wouldn't quicken for many years or maybe I was infertile. One could only hope.

I rose and grabbed a tome of Maester Effret's before crawling into the plush feather bed and bidding Montira goodnight. I remembered Robb's note and only read for about three hours, closing the book and marking my page.

That night I dreamed of nothing but wolves and lions tearing each other apart.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Hey there! Thanks for reading and, as usual, 5 more reviews! Hope you like it!**


	5. Chapter 5

I awoke the next morning just before dawn broke. It was early, too early. I informed Montira I would break my fast in the great hall with the others and she prepared me for a social gathering. Nothing too complex, though. My hair ran in a simple golden braid down my back and I wore a modest green dress with long sleeves. I put a belt of gold discs about my hips and matched it with a few thin golden bangles.

I checked my reflection in the mirror and joked, "I'm a right proper Tyrell, I am." Then I took off the bracelets and added my lion's head pendant. "Much better."

To ward off the chill, my father had bought me a beautiful crimson fur-lined cloak. The fur was ermine, the softest I had ever felt and the color of the cloak made my hair shine like fire. I wanted nothing more than to throw it in the dirt and stomp on it a thousand times. However, that would be considered bad manners and I wasn't about to incur the wrath of my father and cousin.

That didn't stop me from ruffling their feathers a bit. It was raining on my walk to the great hall, so I ducked outside and made no effort to avoid the mud puddles, even though Ser Humfrey made an effort to prevent me from doing just that. The bottom six inches of my cloak and dress were caked by the time I arrived to break my fast. They looked at me disgustedly, but made no comment. I ordered bacon, sausage, and some potatoes. And the strongest coffee known to man.

Tyrion plopped into a chair next to me, in a similar state of hating anytime of day before noon. We looked at each other and he raised his eyebrow, asking the question, "What's wrong with you?" without speaking a word.

"Early." I said, gladly accepting my food as it was placed in front of me. I returned his look.

"Brunettes." He explained as he speared a link of sausage off of my plate.

I smiled, taking a sip of my coffee and practically grimacing at the bitter taste. They didn't take sarcasm quite as off-handedly as the staff at King's Landing.

"Where did you disappear to last night, sweet cousin?" Cersei asked, sipping from a goblet that in all likelihood contained wine.

"I went for a breath of air, then realized how tired I was so I went to my chambers early." I dismissed, eating like a proper lady.

"We were all tired, Marlowe, but we endured." My father commented wearily. He was slowly realizing that soon I would no longer be his responsibility. The last month on the road was all the fathering he had to put up with. I looked up at him and realized Lancel was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Lancel?" I queried, sipping my acrid coffee.

"He is in the yard preparing. He will be training with the young men of Winterfell today." He answered curtly, staring at his eggs as he shoveled them into this mouth. I nodded and turned my attention to Tyrion.

"Did you tell my betrothed of my love of Effret?" I asked, just above a whisper.

"It may have come up last night." Tyrion answered.

"Last night? When last night?"

Tyrion belched and beckoned a young kitchen girl over, "Fried bread, and ale, please. And bacon, burn it black." He turned back to me, "We had a chance meeting before the start of the feast. I ran into the young wolf as he was talking to his repugnant friend Greyjoy about you, who implied he send you a sketch of his manhood. I interjected with the idea of the books. You're welcome."

"I don't believe I _thanked_ you, Tyrion. Maybe I wanted that sketch." I winked and he smiled before I excused myself.

A young redheaded girl, the second Stark child, Sansa, accosted me on my way out the door. She gushed for a minute about how unfortunate it was that my pretty cloak was ruined, and admired my pendant, wishing she had fine things like it. Oh yes, she would do very well in King's Landing.

"Would you care to join the other young ladies this afternoon at our lessons?" She asked. She looked me in the eyes with her beautifully blue-grey Stark eyes and my resolve disappeared. Like my cousin Tyrion, I guess I was no match against a beautiful girl. And besides, we were to by good-sisters in a few days' time, I should get to know her while I could.

I consented and she squealed (yes, _squealed_) with excitement and bid me goodbye for the moment before heading off to where her younger siblings and mother were breaking their fast. I glanced over the table to see if I could find Robb, as he had not told me where to meet him.

At that second, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned. He stood behind me, less than a step.

"Are you a wizard?" I asked before he could speak. He looked puzzled.

"No…why?"

"You constantly appear out of no where and somehow know my favorite author, it was a logical conclusion." I explained, taking a step back as Lord Stark passed us and gave us a look of disapproval.

"I am not a wizard, and I had it on good authority that Maester Effret is your favorite." He said, offering his arm. I took it and we strode down the corridor.

"He is my favorite. He writes about places I've always wanted to see. I long to travel the world. Instead I am getting married." I stopped in my tracks and forced him to face me, internally cursing myself for my last comment. I apologized, but he discharged it gracefully.

"It was my hope to travel the North with my father before I became Lord of Winterfell. I wished to get to know each castle and fort in the north, to better understand what the lords might someday ask me for. That will not happen now, will it?" He explained.

"It still can. Just not with your father, I guess." I looked at the floor, feeling stupid. A few moments of awkward silence passed before he lifted my chin gently and made me look him in the eye.

"When I am Lord of Winterfell, I will appoint a castellan and we will see the world together. How does that sound?" This boy was too sweet for his own good. I smiled as I realized this meant that I would be treated like a queen after we were married. I nodded at him and we continued our promenade down the corridor.

Winterfell's interior dwarfed the exterior. The library tower was my favorite, obviously. Robb practically had to drag me out of it, reminding me that I could visit all I wanted in the years to come. That comment had made my stomach turn into knots.

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><p>Next we toured the Godswood, which was nice and warm from the natural hot springs Robb informed me. I took off my cloak and looked around at all the trees with faces, the Old Gods of the North. I wandered away from Robb and stumbled on a branch. I pulled myself up and brushed off, noting the grass stains that were visible despite my dress being green. I looked up and locked eyes with a gigantic white weirwood. The red leaves of which gave a gruesome effect. I stood in awe until Robb found me.<p>

"This is the heart tree. In four days we will marry right here." He told me. This caught my attention.

"Married here? In the Godswood?" I asked, incredulous. It never occurred to me that I would be married in front of the Old Gods.

"Unless you would prefer being married in the sept, although it is rather small." He offered, replacing my cloak over my shoulders.

"I don't mind, but I'm sure my father and cousin will." I sighed, not looking forward to that argument.

He stood in front of me and took my hand, "If at the end of the day I am married to you, the day shall be a success." He raised my hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss upon my knuckle. My heart leapt into my throat and it was all I could do to withhold my desire to kiss him full on the mouth.

"Ah! There you are!" a male voice shouted from behind me. Robb looked up and I turned to see his odious friend Theon Greyjoy approaching, Jon Snow in tow. "Ser Rodrik wanted to start early today."

"Ser Rodrik?" I asked, pretending to be clueless as to the staff of my future home. He was the master-at-arms, in charge of instructing the young men of Winterfell in the ways of weapons.

"Our Master-at-arms. He can be a real bear if I'm late. Would you like to come watch?" he asked, still holding my hand. I nodded, excited at the prospect of seeing my fiancée slash about with a sword. He started leading me away when I remembered my promise to Sansa.

"Only for a bit, I am to grace the young ladies of the castle with my presence this afternoon."

Theon scoffed, "Going to sew with little Sansa?" His condescension was palpable.

"I am rubbish at sewing, Greyjoy. I was going to teach them how to tumble." Before the boys could retort, I let go of Robb's hand and somersaulted across the plush grass, then used my momentum to push myself up into a headstand. I came down from it before my dress started to fall and stared at Theon.

The boys stood agape, so I turned and strutted away. _That'll show them,_ I thought as I exited the Godswood into the chilly air.

I took a seat on a barrel on a balcony overlooking the yard with a mug of warm tea. Robb and Theon started things off with tourney blades, and Theon landed the first fatal blow. It took some time; Robb was skilled at dodging and countering attacks. Then Theon fought my brother, who was overdressed in obviously new armor. Gold-plated, with a lion forged into the center of the chest piece. He clumsily attacked the Ironborn, who dismissed it easily. Three more failed attempts at landing a blow and my brother was starting to tire, so Theon ended it quickly by disarming my brother.

Lancel slunk away embarrassed, and then my cousin Jaime made an appearance in the yard.

"Alright, boys, which one of you will take on a real man?" He proposed. When no one answered him he continued with, "I'll go easy on the soul brave enough to challenge me."

I knew he wouldn't. Jaime always lied to get others to fight him. He was known throughout Westeros as one of the greatest fighters to ever live, which made men extremely wary about dueling him.

Robb stepped forward and my heart almost stopped.

Jaime laughed and looked up to where I was sitting, "Look, coz, he's showing off for you!"

I managed a smile, hoping that I would still have a betrothed in a few minutes' time. "Then let me bestow upon him my favor." I stood and walked down to Robb while the other boys jeered. When I reached him, I reached back and unclasped my lion's head necklace before clasping it around Robb's neck. The crowd gasped and Jaime grabbed my arm tightly, pulling me away. Traditionally, a favor was a handkerchief or some small trinket, not a large, expensive golden necklace.

"What do you think you are doing?" he half-whispered.

"We wanted their alliance, did we not? Go easy on him, and we shall have it." I hissed back at him, tearing my arm out of his grasp and walking back to Robb. The crowd murmured while I planted a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm sorry, but I really must be going. I promised your sister to take in lessons with her." I said before leaning closer and whispering, "Jaime is shite at covering his lower left leg, you may be able to trip him up."

And with that I left the yard behind. A few minutes later, I found myself staring at the sour-faced Septa trying to convince her I had been invited to lessons.

"As future Lady of Winterfell, I would think that you would be more polite to me." I retorted to a rather snide remark.

"It's alright, Septa Mordane, I invited her." A small voice said from inside. Where that voice had been the second I got to the door, I didn't know.

The Septa looked at me like one would regard the decaying corpse of a traitor, but let me pass. A gaggle of young girls sat in their seats, all working diligently at their sewing. Except one, a young dark-haired girl with the Stark eyes. Arya. She looked frustrated.

"You may sit here and work on mending Lady Catelyn's dress." Septa Mordane snipped, pointing at a chair that had a dark blue gown draped across it. She kept pointing, but I made no move toward the chair.

"Excuse me, dear Septa, but might there be a different assignment I could do?" I raised my chin a little to show my disdain for sewing.

"Does my lady not sew?" the Septa said incredulously, as if I had scandalized her to her wit's end.

"No, I do not. I read, I thought I might read aloud to the young ladies who are sewing. It'll pass the time quite nicely." I suggested.

"This portion of lessons is for teaching the young ladies sewing, not for them to listen to silly stories." The Septa was indignant. I ignored her and walked over to the small bookshelf in the corner and perused the selection. I chose a book of Northern fairy tales, a different one than I had brought with me.

Walking over to the chair the Septa had pointed at earlier, I picked up the dress and draped it across the Septa's own chair before sitting down. I pulled my legs up; tucking them underneath me after making sure nothing was exposed. I laid the book on my lap and opened to a random page.

"The ballad of Ser Ector the Brave," I began.

"Oh, this is Sansa's favorite!" One of the girls giggled while Sansa turned a flattering shade of pink.

"Is it, my dear?" I asked sweetly. She gave a demure nod and looked down at her sewing. "Any particular reason?" I continued.

"Sansa loves stories of brave knights. She said they remind her of Joffrey!" Arya said. Sansa's blush deepened into a red mask all over her face.

"Yes, you will be married to Joffrey. I almost forgot." I said dismissively.

"She had a dream about him! And they were kissing!" Arya spouted. Sansa paused before throwing her embroidery project to the side and bolting out of the room.

"Arya Stark! You will leave this room at once!" the Septa yelled before going to chase Sansa.

"That wasn't very nice, Arya." The first girl piped up, but I could see she was trying to hide her own laughs.

"Well, it's true! She only asked Marlowe here to ask her about Joffrey! Ever since father signed that stupid betrothal pact she's talked of nothing else! Joffrey, Joffrey, Joffrey! I'm sick of it!" Arya yelled. She had stopped work on her sewing long ago, but threw it down in disgust and storming from the room. She called a name I didn't quite catch, but a small wolf pup rose from the corner and followed her from the room. I hadn't even noticed her when I walked in, but Robb _had _said there were six of the creatures. Sansa's must've run out after its master, or maybe Sansa had left the pup in her room.

"Well, I guess there's no point in staying. If anyone asks, I'm going back down to the yard to watch the boys spar." I said to the only girl left in the room. She nodded but did not look up from her sewing.

I had sensed the tension in the castle, but hadn't seen it until just now. She didn't look up at me because I was a Lannister. In fact, many people in the castle, usually members of the household staff, either didn't acknowledge my presence or glared at me because of my surname. I felt anger rise from the pit of my stomach. How dare they judge me because of who my uncle is?

I only hoped this tension would only ease after my marriage to Robb. Then I would no longer be a Lannister, I would be a Stark. That thought calmed me as I headed toward the sound of clashing swords.

I only hoped I still had a betrothed when I got there.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

**Thanks for reading! I need 2 more reviews before I put up chapter 6! **


	6. Chapter 6

The next few days passed quickly. Quicker than I ever could have imagined. It was a string of meetings with my father and Ned Stark, along with my cousin Cersei to hammer out the details of my upcoming nuptials. The flowers, the food, the cake, whether or not we should have brought a small choir of boys up from King's Landing.

I was bored senseless by all of it. When my father or cousin deigned to ask my opinion, I grunted passively, preferring to spend time in my imagination.

The wedding I wanted would have been Robb and myself standing in front of the heart tree in the Godswood. No one else around. After we said our vows in barely more than whispers and sealed it with a kiss, Robb spun me around and quickly undid the laces of my gown, laying me by the heart tree and taking me forcefully…

And besides, the sept was too small for the multitude of guests my cousin and father were planning.

"I want to marry in the Godswood." I blurted, jerking myself out of my imaginary world.

"What an insipid thought." The Queen took a sip of wine, and her eyes held a smirk. I glared back at her.

"You want the Starks as our ally, don't you? Wouldn't it do to respect their traditions?" I argued, turning my head toward my father but still staring down Cersei for a second more. She held her cup at her lips, glaring right back.

"You only want to marry in the mongrel way because you've got feelings for your little wolf pup." The Queen taunted, an evil smile in her eyes.

"Is this true, Marlowe?" My father asked.

I was flabbergasted. I open and closed my mouth several times, trying to think of an answer. Did I have feelings for Robb?

"So what if I do? We are to be married, isn't love a part of that?"

"Love will make you forget where your true loyalties lie. The Starks will be our ally be it through this marriage or the one in Joffrey's future. And Joffrey is less likely to forget that his blood is Lannister blood." Cersei continued. Never had I wished I could punch her more than at that moment. I could see the game she was playing, trying to make my father call off the wedding and shame me from here to Dorne.

"He is no more Lannister than I, he is half Baratheon!" I was getting defensive.

"And you are half Swyft, a _much_ lesser house than Baratheon." Cersei countered. My father pounded his fist on the table angrily.

"Enough! I could give less than a stable boy's shit whether you have feelings for this boy or not. What is important is that you remember where you loyalties lie if ever they are called into question. Is that understood?" My father stared at me.

"Yes, Father." I murmured.

"As far as this Godswood concern, if you wish it, you may have it. You are my only daughter and your wedding day shall be how you want." He smiled at me. I was stunned. Was this some last attempt at being a loving father? As a child I had never wanted for anything. Lannister gold had that power. I had been raised mostly by my mother and the septas in her employ. My father had usually been with my Uncle Tywin, ever by his side.

On the day Lancel and I left for King's Landing, my mother sobbed as I had never heard anyone sob before. She didn't let go of my hand until my younger brother, Willem, who was only eight at the time, pulled her hand out of mine and embraced her. Of my three brothers, Willem had always been my favorite.

I had to leave the room. These false affectations of my father's were driving me mad, and my cousin's smirks did not help the situation any. I threw open the door and stormed down the corridor.

I didn't see Bran as I rounded the corner too quickly. He must've been relacing his boot, for he was crouched just around the bend and I crashed into him, pitching forward onto the ground. I caught myself and turned the potential injury into a somersault, popping up to my feet with a small flourish.

I turned back to Bran, and saw his mouth was agape.

"Where did you learn to do that?" He asked after a few brief moments of silence.

"My cousin Tyrion taught me," I explained, brushing the dirt off my hands. "Would you like to learn?" He nodded enthusiastically.

"Then, if this shall be a fair trade of knowledge, I should hope that you would show me the best places for climbing." I had seen him climbing and running along the rooftops, like he belonged up there.

He looked confused, "But…you're a lady." He said slowly, as if he were afraid of offending me. He did not. I bent to his eye level and explained that I was a lady unlike any other before sweeping past him and out to the yard.

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><p>The night before my wedding a party started rather spontaneously, as parties were wont to do in King Robert's presence. The minstrels we brought from King's Landing played and people danced, wine and ale flowed freely and the drunkenness level of the entire crowd rose quickly. Lady Catelyn and Cersei sent the young children to bed.<p>

Sitting between my father and Lancel, two of the least jovial people I knew, got boring quickly so I sent Tyrion a look that begged him to save me. He disengaged his mouth from the swarthy kitchen wench he had been necking with long enough to ask my father for permission to dance with me. My father reluctantly said yes and I was free. I undid my braid and got lost in the crowd as Tyrion went back to his wench, but not before he passed me a goblet of dark wine. I graciously took it.

Looking around I noticed that Jon Snow was standing next to the far wall by the band, appearing as if he wished to become a part of the wall behind him. His pale skin practically shone in the dimness of the hall, while his black hair was almost lost in the darkness surrounding him. I made my way across to him, stepping over loose hunting dogs fighting over scraps, drunken slobs sleeping in piles of their own sick, and benches that had mysteriously lost their tables in the ensuing chaos of the party.

I leaned on the wall next to him and he looked at me as if I had suddenly sprouted a moustache.

"I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, Jon," I said loudly over the music, "I wish to make amends."

"No amends are necessary." He said tersely, looking past me.

"Any why not? We are to be family upon the morrow. Family should get along." I took another sip of my wine, the glass half gone now. I still didn't feel its effects.

"Because I am leaving Winterfell very soon. I am to leave for the Night's Watch with my uncle Benjen in a fortnight." He said almost sheepishly, like his mind was not yet made up.

"What? A handsome boy like you wasting those looks at the Wall! I won't hear of it, you must stay here." I exclaimed, taking control of a situation I had no business controlling.

"I may be handsome as you claim my lady, but I am still a bastard. In the Night's Watch I will have a future. Unlike here." His eyes scanned up to the head table. I couldn't tell at whom he looked, but I would place the Lannister fortune on either his father or the brother I was to marry. The conversation had become bleak and depressing, so I grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

"What are you doing?" he asked, pulling his hand out of mine.

"We are going to dance." I said, it being my turn to be terse. I handed my now empty wine goblet to the nearest drunken slob, who turned it over and, finding it was empty, went to fill it. I grabbed Jon's hand again and didn't let go until I turned to face him. I put my right hand on his left, stretching them out as was appropriate, and my left on his shoulder while he placed his hand on my hip.

He looked panicked and whispered, "I don't know how to dance."

I smiled at him and whispered back, "Well now is a wonderful time to learn, isn't it?"

The music blurred into the next song, and I made it as easy as possible for him to figure out how to lead without actually leading him myself. My toes only suffered a few crushing blows before he got the hang of it. He looked like he was actually enjoying himself, which was a rare look on him. I pointed that out and suddenly he dropped my hands and backed away, apologizing profusely and dashing off the floor.

I was confused and alone on the dance floor, but not for long. A few seconds after Jon ran off I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find Robb standing behind me.

"Might I have this dance?" He asked, bowing low. I curtsied politely and took my position. The music started up again and we started spinning.

"It was kind of you to dance with Jon." He said to me, bringing my attention back to him.

"We had an unfortunate encounter, I was hoping to smooth over it." I explained. "Although it was rather rude of him to just run off on me like that. Again."

"Again?" Robb's brow furrowed slightly.

I shook my head, dismissing it, "Oh, he ran off on me when we first met. But I was being a boor so I can't really blame him."

"You being a boor? I can't imagine that." Robb smiled and my heart smiled back at him.

"Get used to it, for tomorrow we wed." I smiled. "Can I tell you something without seeming too forward?"

He leaned in, looking very interested while we twirled, "I'm listening."

I closed some more of the distance between us in order to maintain secrecy. "I look forward to our first kiss tomorrow."

"As do I." He whispered into my ear. His light breath on my ear and neck sent excited shivers through my entire body. I felt a tap on my shoulder and we stopped dancing. I turned and saw my cousin Jaime, radiant in his Kingsguard whites, looking disapprovingly at me.

"The Queen wishes to see you in her chambers." He said tersely, turning and walking away without making sure I was following. I looked back at Robb, a look of apology on my face, and followed him.

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><p>Cersei awaited me in a chair by the fire. She was facing away from us as Jaime announced my arrival. She didn't look my way, but bid me sit in a chair across from her.<p>

She didn't speak for a long while, just stared into the fire. The flames reflected in her glassy green eyes. I looked at her expectantly until finally she spoke.

"There are few things in this world as important as family. Don't you agree, dear cousin?" Her gaze remained fixed on the fire. She waved a servant forward, who filled her goblet.

"I suppose. Why do you ask this?" I said as Cersei took a long gulp of wine. Why wouldn't she just let me alone? She was getting her wish upon the morrow; I was to be stuck here in the North never to bother her again with my spiky ways.

"This marriage is only a ploy to get the Starks in our pocket. Your outburst the other day made me think your loyalties are wavering. You must remember that you're a Lannister first and a Stark only by marriage." She said gravely.

"But I shall live in the North, far away from my Lannister relatives. Whatever children I have will be Starks. One might inherit Winterfell one day, not Casterly Rock." I reasoned.

"Your loyalties are to House Lannister. Love will only complicate things. You will perform the duties of a wife, nothing more. Shut yourself in the library if you must, but never – _never_—think yourself a Stark." She turned her eyes on me and leaned forward in her chair in a very unladylike fashion.

I felt the words bubble to my lips before I could stop them. "I will not be condemned to tolerate a miserable life just because you were!"

She slapped me hard across the face and Jaime burst in the door, holding her back from doing further damage to me the night before my wedding. He yelled at me to go, and I obliged.

Walking through the chill night air, I was proud of myself that I had finally said what I had wanted to say to her since the moment of my engagement. She thought of this marriage as a way to trap me, to win.

I had finally beaten her.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Hello readers! I am suspending the review policy for now, but I would still love to hear from you guys! The wedding is up next and I think you'll love it!**

**Thanks!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here it is! The wedding! Enjoy, and please review!**

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><p>I awoke with a start once my sleep-addled brain realized what day it was. My wedding day was here. The room smelled like sleepy musk and chill. I only had a few moments to lay in bed staring at the stone ceiling before Montira burst in carrying a tub and followed by no less than eight serving girls, each carrying heavy pots full of warm water. She helped me undress while they filled the copper tub.<p>

I ate a small breakfast of bread and soft cheese while Montira scrubbed every inch of my body. I hadn't realized I was staring off into nothing until Cersei and Myrcella entered the room.

"Just here to make sure everything's perfect, Darling." She said in her sickeningly sweet voice that meant that she was now in charge. She ordered a glass of wine from a serving girl, who rushed off to fetch it, and sat down in a chair near the fire. Myrcella sat upon her lap, playing absentmindedly with a doll.

"I do not envy you your new home, dear cousin. Surely come winter you will freeze." She half-teased, looking over her shoulder at me. She hugged Myrcella to her body and continued, "We will make you a match with a man who lives somewhere warm, Myrcella darling, so you do not suffer the same fate."

I had grown tired of jabs like this over the last three days, and my patience had finally given out. "And what fate is that, Cersei? The fate of marrying someone you actually get along with?" I spat at her, "Or will you condemn your daughter to a life of pretty, empty things and gallons of alcohol so she may suffer the same fate as her mother?"

I had never seen Cersei move so quickly as she had when she ran at me, grabbing my chin and squeezing till it hurt.

"I could have your tongue removed for saying such things. You think that your mongrel Northron family will protect you from my wrath, think again, Cousin. If your loyalty wavers, I will descend upon you with all the might of the Lannister forces and tear you and everyone you love limb from limb." She shoved my face away forcefully and strode over to Myrcella. She took the young girl's hand and led her away, stating that she would return to approve of my appearance.

The next few hours were full of pulling, plucking, shaving, and dressing. My stomach slowly filled with butterflies and I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage. When Montira finally pronounced me finished I turned around and took my first look in the mirror all day.

I hardly recognized the woman standing before me. My hair was gathered into three braids that all joined together as they descended down my back. It shone like spun gold in the true Lannister fashion. My lips were stained red and the thin line of charcoal that surrounded them flattered my emerald eyes.

But the most stunning thing about me was my dress. Heavy cloth-of-gold with long sleeves and a deep v-neck that ended just below my breasts. My bodice, which was almost unbearably tight, was lined about the bust with blood red rubies, which dove down, ending below my waist. The dress accentuated my waist before flaring out into a long train.

A knock came at the door as I was admiring myself and Montira answered it. My father and Lancel stood outside the door. My father was holding a bundle of crimson cloth.

"Lancel, isn't your sister a vision?" My father asked as they stepped into the room and closed the door. Lancel murmured an affirmative reply and averted his eyes. Sometimes his modesty was incredibly annoying. I rolled my eyes and thanked my father.

He strode over to me and kissed my cheek in a very fatherly fashion. He was realizing that his duties as my father would soon end, and he was trying to make up for lost time. His actions made me sick to my stomach. It was almost midafternoon, which was when the ceremony was set to start. My father unfurled the red velvet bundle he had carried in and showed me my maiden cloak. The Lannister lion roared upon a field of deep crimson, so much that I could practically hear it. I turned slowly and my father hung it around my shoulders.

The cloak was heavier than it looked, and the gold chain was cold against the hollow of my neck. Sparks flew through my limbs as I thought of Robb removing it in a few short minutes. Luckily, weddings in the North were short, simply reciting vows in front of the heart tree and the switching of the cloak. Then it was on to the feast, and at the end of the night, the bedding. A knot of excitement tightened in my stomach and I smiled to myself.

Today I awoke a Lannister, but I would be going to sleep a Stark. What could be better than that?

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><p>My father and I stood at the stone archway that led into the Godswood. I held his arm not out of love, but because I needed something to hold onto. My knees felt weak as a newborn foals'. The Maester of Winterfell, a kind old man by the name of Luwin, stood in front of us in order to lead our procession to the heart tree.<p>

The minstrel started playing and the Maester started walking. A few seconds later we did as well. I could feel the soft grass of the Godswood under my delicate slippers. I smelled the chill in the damp air and glanced at the people we passed. The more important they were, the closer we got to where my betrothed waited. My heart pounded in my ears and my stomach fluttered nervously.

My breath caught in my throat when we rounded a corner and I saw Robb standing regally under the heart tree, his black velvet doublet tied with a grey sash and the jeweled hilt of a sword glinted at his hip. His mother had again insisted his hair be tamed for the occasion and it shone in the broken sunlight of midday. He looked as regal as any knight or lord at court.

He smiled broadly when he saw me, and I couldn't help but smile as well. As we approached, I began to question why I had any reservations about this marriage. We passed the Queen and the look on her face reminded me why. She wore a smile of smug pride that was common to the Lannisters. Like she had won our petty feud by sticking me in the North where I wouldn't bother anyone. She was wrong, though. I had won.

We stopped and my father presented me to Robb, who took my hands. Maester Luwin stepped forward and looked to me expectantly. I recited the traditional Northern wedding vows.

"In front of the old gods of the North, I am his and he is mine. From this day till the end of my days." The Maester smiled and looked to Robb.

"In front of the old gods of the North, I am hers and she is mine," Robb made eye contact with me and I felt my knees turn completely to water. "From this day till the end of my days."

The Maester nodded and turned to his right to collect the bundle of fabric from his assistant. He unfurled it to reveal a beautiful cloak of snow white silk with a grey direwolf emblazoned across the back. He handed it to Robb, who dropped my hands and reached for the nape of my neck. I could see his hands tremble slightly, but they had no difficulty unclasping my maiden cloak from my shoulders and letting it drop to the ground at my feet. He took the Stark cloak from the Maester and swept it around my shoulders. It was a wonderfully light cloak compared to the one of house Lannister.

"I now pronounce these two man and wife. You may kiss the bride." The Maester proclaimed loudly, making sure everyone in the crowded Godswood could hear him. Robb moved his head closer and placed a chaste kiss on my lips before grabbing my hand. Luckily, his hands were as sweaty as mine. I could feel the callouses from years of swordplay under the tender flesh of my own hand, and a brief image of that calloused hand touching my naked body flashed in my mind and I smiled again.

We walked, my arm in his, out of the Godswood toward the Great Hall. I could already smell the seven-course meal and my mouth started watering. The thought of food was tantalizing, as I hadn't eaten since that morning. Robb and I sat on the dais, with either side of our families stretched out on either side. Once everyone was seated, Lord Stark stood and proposed a toast to our happy marriage. After he sat, servants came pouring into the Great Hall to serve the first course, a small plate of bread and southron cheeses. There were to be seven courses, to honor the gods of the South in some small way, so I paced myself and only took some small bites.

The second course was preceded by a singer who sang about two young lovers, which extolled the virtues of true love. A servant placed a plate of exotic fruits in front of me and I nibbled them while I listened to the singer. Mostly, songs like this bored me to tears and this one was no different. I looked over to Robb, who was watching the minstrel with the same bored look on his face. I put a hand over his and he turned his attention to me, smiling slightly.

"Tell me honestly, were you nervous?" I asked quietly.

"Yes. I nearly dropped your marriage cloak and made a fool of myself." He grinned. He had smiled quite a lot today, so I wondered to myself when the Stark somberness would reappear. It was bound to happen soon; even I was growing weary of the mirth that flooded the hall.

He raised his hand and kissed my fingers delicately. This caught the attention of the King, who demanded us to kiss for the hall to see. He took up a chant that spread like wildfire through the Great Hall. It became so loud that Robb and I stood, faced each other, and shared a chaste kiss.

"Boo! Give 'er a real kiss, boy! Show us you're a man!" The King roared from his seat. The Queen's jaw tightened, as did the grip on her wine goblet. _At least I'm not saddled with a drunken sot as a husband, _I thought as Robb placed a hand at my waist and neck and dipped me at a dangerous angle before kissing me deeply. The crowd roared with laughter and clapped their approval. We stood and I felt a blush creep up my neck as I sat again. The attention returned to the singer and the next dish appeared, a light lamb stew with potatoes and peas.

My eyes met Tyrion's, whom I had hardly seen these last, hurried days. He raised his wine skin to me, but there was a certain sad quality to his gaze. Perhaps he was disappointed in me for not fighting harder against this match and accepting my place. Perhaps he would miss my company, now that I lived in the North. I still planned on writing to him as we always had, but our letters would be fewer and farther between. Or perhaps it was just a general melancholy. Intellectual types such as the both of us were prone to bouts of melancholy, as were the Starks.

_I should fit right in in my new home, then, _I pondered as I took another sip of wine and gazed at nothing in particular.

* * *

><p>About an hour after the meal ended and the crowd had gotten even drunker, my cousin Jaime stood and raised his glass, declaring it time for the bedding. The men and women in the crowd cheered and rushed forward. I was pulled from my chair and lifted onto the shoulders of two Stark men and they started ripping the hem off my dress, tearing off my sleeves and bodice. They picked up the tune of some bawdy song about a blushing virgin and a swarthy pirate. My ass was pinched and my dress grew shorter the closer we got to my new chambers. My cousin Jaime led the group, leading the singing. His face was slightly flushed with drink. Obviously the King had let him have the night off for the festivities. He had other Kingsguard protecting him tonight.<p>

I was in my smallclothes by the time they dumped me on the feather bed, and even those were torn nearly to shreds. They left with another rousing chorus of their dirty song to make room for the women to bring in Robb. Unfortunately his wedding garb had had not fared as well as mine and he was holding a scrap of fabric over his manhood, a deep blush across his cheeks. An old crone-like woman pinched his hindquarters as she passed on her way out and he jumped, almost dropping his scrap of what appeared to be his doublet. The women closed the door behind them and he and I were alone.

We stayed motionless for a while, both of us nervous and a little scared. My eyes wandered over his well-formed chest, broad shoulders, and strong legs. I decided enough was enough and rose from the bed. I walked over to him and took his free hand in mine, placing it gently on my right breast. His eyes were full of wonder and curiosity as he squeezed. I looked up into his eyes and kissed him. Softly at first, but then more deeply as he welcomed me into his mouth. He kissed me back and moved both hands to my face. I felt his swatch of fabric drop to my feet and I quickly replaced it with my hand.

I felt him stiffen and rise. His hands went to work removing what was left of my clothes, his kissing becoming more passionate and his hands roaming, touching my naked body.

Before I knew it, we fell onto the bed and I felt his weight on top of me. His knee parted my legs and he moved into me. I let out a small, sharp cry of pain as he entered me, my body not used to the intrusion. He stopped and asked, "Am I hurting you?"

I gritted my teeth and replied, "Keep going." He looked apprehensive, but kept thrusting. Soon my body became more obliging and I even started to enjoy it a little. His motions became more rapid, and he gripped the headboard for support as he cried out.

He rolled off me, but wasn't finished with me yet. His hand wandered down to my mound, then slipped into the wetness that was there. I gripped his wrist and gave him a questioning look.

"Maester Luwin taught me how to please a woman. I want to please you, Marlowe. You are my wife now, and there are few things I would not do to ensure your happiness."

"Are you sure? I can be rather difficult to please." I japed. He smiled and kissed me as he started stroking my most sensitive parts. Perfectly. A nibble of my nipple, a well-placed stroke. I felt a rush of pressure build and then, like a river building up behind a weakened dam, burst with a scream of pleasure. It was indescribable, I had never felt anything like it. The lightning I felt when we touched was now flooding my every limb. It was the greatest ecstasy, and afterward I felt tired. I collapsed into Robb's arms and we lay together, naked and sweating and panting.

I must have fallen asleep because a while later I awoke to a sound of scratching on the door. Robb got up and let in Grey Wind, who had grown significantly since my last encounter with him. He was now the size of a mostly-mature dog despite being about 2 months old. He followed Robb back to the bed and hopped up, laying at our feet.

"Are you as parched as I am?" He asked. I nodded, languidly spreading out on the bed. Robb rose again and pulled on a robe before he opened the window, letting in the cold night air. It was refreshing. He moved to the table, which had been lain with water, wine, and various nibbles. He poured two cups of water and brought one over to me. I took it and sat up, drinking greedily. I hadn't realized just how parched I had gotten. He sat next to me and looked away shyly.

"That was…the…your…first time?" He asked nervously.

"Yes. For you as well?" I said simply. I didn't mention my dalliance two years prior with a strapping young acolyte in King's Landing. We had not made love, but done most everything else. I learned how to please a man, but the poor acolyte had no knowledge of how to please women. He would grope around roughly before I would fake pleasure just to end it. Robb, on the other hand…

"Yes…no. I cannot lie to you." He stood and started pacing worriedly, "There was a whore in the village. Theon bought me a night with her for my sixteenth nameday."

As he passed, I put a hand on his arm to stop him, "Robb, that was two years ago, before we even knew the other existed—"

"I've known you existed since Maester Luwin forced me to learn the Houses of Westeros. The day my father announced the proposal, I tried to learn everything I could about you. The rumors and whispers I heard could hardly do you justice." He took quick steps to the bed and sat beside me. I grabbed his hand and kissed his palm.

"You have a lifetime to flatter me, husband," I said calmly. "Don't use it all up in one night."

He smiled, relieved, and kissed me again. I lay back and sighed a long sigh, slowly drifting into sleep.


End file.
